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I will not deny but that the best apology against false accusers is silence and sufferance, and honest deeds set against dishonest words.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Deeds
Deny
Integrity
Sufferance
Silence
Accusers
Honest
Dishonest
Words
Apology
Best
Patience
Life
False

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They who have put out the people's eyes reproach them of their blindness.
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And to the faithful: death, the gate of life.
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And what is faith, love, virtue unassayed Alone, without exterior help sustained?
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Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind.
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The earth, though in comparison of heaven so small, nor glistering, may of solid good contain more plenty than the sun, that barren shines.
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On a sudden open fly With impetuous recoil and jarring sound Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder.
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His spear, to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast Of some great ammiral were but a wand, He walk'd with to support uneasy steps Over the burning marle.
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The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, But in another country, as he said, Bore a bright golden flow'r, but not in this soil Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon.
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Beauty is Nature's coin, must not be hoarded, But must be current, and the good thereof Consists in mutual and partaken bliss.
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A limbo large and broad, since call'd The Paradise of Fools to few unknown.
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So on this windy sea of land, the Fiend Walked up and down alone bent on his prey.
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Not to know me argues yourselves unknown.
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Nothing lovelier can be found In woman, than to study household good, And good works in her husband to promote.
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Hail, holy light! offspring of heaven firstborn! Or of th' eternal co-eternal beam, May I express thee unblam'd? since God is light And never but in unapproached light Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, Bright effluence of bright essence increate!
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Virtue that wavers is not virtue.
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The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
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